


Nightmare

by QuietlyImplode



Series: Rescue Me [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Nightmares, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyImplode/pseuds/QuietlyImplode
Summary: Clint has a nightmare.------“You’re safe. I’m safe.” She tries to get louder; tries to make her voice grounding. She definitely does not want to touch him. He’s as volatile as her when touch comes unexpectedly and let’s not add that guilt in.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Rescue Me [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984783
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Nightmare

They’ve got into a pattern.

They have separate rooms but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter always ending up in the same bed.

Since finding Natasha, and coaxing her back, Clint’s been watching her. Rarely letting her out of his sight.

Walks with her to her therapy. Walks with her back.

Makes sure she eats.

Makes sure she bathes.

Reassures her when the emotions get too big.

Natasha’s thankful; some days. Others she just wants her own space. She’s not sure what it was about that mission that fucked her up so much, but it has. She’s finding that therapy is helping; sees the value in it. It helps that Tony has hired one that’s Clint’s seen before and vaguely knows the Avengers history.

She sits in the indoor pool, finally having clearance from the good doctor. Clint had been with her up until her examination, quietly ducking out when she’d removed her top for Dr Cho to see her ribs and the shallow cuts that had littered her body. They’re four weeks post injury and everything is a damn sight better than what it was. She’s still getting headaches from the concussion, and most likely the almost week of isolation, and the wounds on her wrists and ankles are still raised but she’s feeling better. More like herself.

The pool feels refreshing and movements are easy. Well easier. They’d be easier still if the first two weeks hadn’t been so goddamn difficult she berates herself.

She’d wondered if Clint had wanted to come with her but she hadn’t been able to find him. Feeling confident he’ll pop up later, Natasha pushes through some laps of the pool and heads to the changing room to shower and get changed.

He’s not in her room and she figures he just wants to be alone. Maybe he’s sick of her.

She gets ready for bed and there’s no sign of Clint.

She wants him next to her. Plucking up some courage, she heads out of her room and goes searching for Clint. Checking first the rooftop, Natasha eyeballs the area. No luck.

She checks the kitchen next, finds Steve and quickly ducks out. She still can’t face Steve without back up, the apparitions that visited, still feels like one in the same.

Lastly she checks his room.

He’s asleep on his bed.

Gosh he looks peaceful.

Sitting on the seat across from his bed, she curls up with a blanket and a book she finds next on the bedside table. Huh, Enders Game.

She’s about halfway through the book when Clint starts talking. She thinks he’s waking up but he’s pleading and getting tangled in the blanket she ended up draping on him.

Fuck.

It’s the “take me instead,” that really gets her. She knows exactly what he’s dreaming about.

Her.

“Clint?” She calls out softly,

“You’re okay.” She crouches next to the bed.

“You’re safe. I’m safe.” She tries to get louder; tries to make her voice grounding. She definitely does not want to touch him. He’s as volatile as her when touch comes unexpectedly and let’s not add that guilt in.

“Clint. Wake up.” She quickly turns on the air conditioner, changing the temperature of the room and then puts the TV on trying to change anything she can to wake him up just like he’s done for her for so long. This not their first rodeo.

Getting louder now, she tries again.

“Clint.”

He slowly rouses looking worse for wear.

“Hey.” He says. “Sorry I was so tired. I fell asleep.”

“Hey.” She replies. “Bad dreams?”

“Yeah.” He looks embarrassed and moves across to make room for her to come and sit next to him.

“How you feeling?” She rests her head on his shoulder.

“Sad. Tired.” He says honestly.

“Me too.” She replies.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Honestly?” He shakes his head, “No.”

They sit in silence for a while, watching the TV.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’m sorry I got caught.”

He’s dismissive in his response.

“It could have happened to any of us, Nat. If not you then, probably me.” He takes a pause.

“I wish I was me.” He finishes quietly.

“I don’t.” She replies quickly. “I’m glad it was me.”

They lapse back into silence, and Natasha doesn’t really know what to say.

“Can I stay here tonight?” She buries herself closer into him.

He kisses the top of her head. “Like you have to ask.”


End file.
